She felt raggedy, unraveled. She looked it, too. But once she started working she couldn’t stop; wouldn’t stop. Didn’t matter if she couldn’t finish in just one sitting she wanted to get as far as she could. Maybe it was her obsessive, excessively competitive nature that made her count the rows of stitches? Or perhaps she just liked to see the thing materialize, soft between her fingers.

Too much coffee and a restless leg made her stop around three thirty. She rubbed her neck and then her eyes as she looked at the pieces. Knitting is creation — there’s a reason it’s used to describe healing for broken bones — making something new exist in an open, fractured place.

So she knits all night to fill up the broken, empty place. Thinking about the sweater, socks, blanket, hat takes up the loose yarn and energy she would spend on thinking and crying. Mourning is for the daytime and knitting is for the night.

Apparently miniature fairy gardens are a thing. I saw this one at the Sussex Co. Springfest this past weekend. Although pumpkins are a bit of an anachronism in a spring garden, especially next to the lupines, I’m won’t quibble. Soon, spring, soon…..

We’re waiting for you, Spring, and our patience is wearing quite thin. Do not even suggest that more snow is coming next week. We have had enough. Our bodies are pale and scaly. I’m afraid to even look at my feet after they’ve been entombed in wool socks and boots all winter. I want to go outside and sit with my friends on the deck. Wearing flip flops.

Viva l’automne! I like the look of these summer-like purple flowers against the changing leaves and ferns in the background. (So many ferns!) The day was overcast, and that made the lighting feel clearer to me than a sunny day. I’ve noticed during the fall that the sunnier days are almost painful. Is that a thing that happens to us as we grow older: too much color and contrast for our aging retinas to process?

Again, I snapped this with an iPhone, and I have no clue what kind of flowers these are. Any botanists out there are encouraged to shout-out.

I’m both a late bloomer and a late adopter. I just recently migrated from my old-lady flip phone to an iPhone, and I’m almost ashamed to admit how much I like the thing. But the most compelling feature of the iPhone is the ability to take pictures like this. This is the road view of a farm where you can pick your own wildflowers/apples/raspberries up in Warren County.